


The other Prisoner of Azkaban

by dreamyworld



Series: Barty in prison [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Childhood, Cute, Flashback to 1968, Flashbacks, Freeform, Gen, Memories, Oneshot, c. 1982, imagine, prisoner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28151226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamyworld/pseuds/dreamyworld
Summary: The perspective of a villain who only wanted to be loved.
Series: Barty in prison [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165292
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	The other Prisoner of Azkaban

**Author's Note:**

> I love Barty and I can’t stop writing about him. Here’s another short fic.

His 20th birthday had passed. In the worst possible way - without his friends, in a too small, cold, cell all alone. His only company were Dementors keeping a close look at him. At the start of his imprisonment, each second was painful, but it turned less painful over the few months he has been here. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t sad in a way people would define sadness.

He was lifeless. Hopeless. Yes, he was alive, but not more than a body sitting on the floor of what felt more like his home than anything ever did.

No, he did not deserve this. And the last of his emotions were anger. That his life has always been unfair.

His only father figure, Tom Riddle, “Voldemort”, was robbed of his powers, by an infant.

Other than that, the amount of people understanding him was pretty low. The Blacks, the Lestranges, they have arguably had an easier life. They could do whatever, as long as their blood stayed “pure”.

And they also didn’t have a father who left them alone every day!

His mother was getting visibly ill, she was too weak to do anything - even though if someone genuinely showed some kind of affection for her only son, it would be her.

In Azkaban, there are not many possibilities on what to do. You can stare at one of the four walls.

You can fulfill your needs such as going to the bathroom - which was technically just a toilet and a sink, in this case - eat your daily food provided by scary looking house elves, usually a few slices of bread and pumpkin juice - and sleep.

Sleeping was the main way he escaped his problems and his thoughts which were unwillingly entering his mind at the most random times now.

Prison made him go insane. Well, people had always called him insane. But he didn’t see it in himself until he had to face this.

He couldn’t tell the difference between being awake and being asleep anymore. Though his dreams were a bit more filled with life and hope.

Nothing too abstract. Mostly just past memories. Happy memories of his childhood as a young boy.

“Look mummy, I’m a bunny!”

The blond boy laughed and joyfully ran around his garden, jumping and hopping on the grass. Like a small bunny.

He grabbed his mother’s wand. And she gave it to him, since she trusted him. Her son was talented for his young age. He was not eleven yet, but for some reason he could easily handle wands. Wands that didn’t even belong to him. She knew he was going to be a great wizard one day. Almost their whole family had been sorted into Slytherin, where all the most powerful wizards were. But as eager as the young boy was, his mother could also see him as a possible Ravenclaw.

She was so proud of her talented son.

His voice disrupted her thought process: “Tell me a spell!”

And she hesitated for a while upon his request. Which spells were easy for a six year old to perform?

Then she smiled.

“Flipendo.”

She explained him the hand motion he had to do to perform this jinx on her.

It’s like a Stupor, but smaller. It would shortly knock her over.

She stood a few feet away from him, staring at him as if it was a duel. But it wasn’t.

“Are you ready, Mum?” he asked. She was happy he cared for her safety, knowing he’d never purposefully hurt her.

“I’m always ready!”

And his eyes flickered full of determination as he yelled “Flipendo!” and an orange light shot out of his mothers wand, hitting its owner directly in the chest.

She stumbled and lightly fell to the ground.

“Wow, Barty, that was.. I don’t know what to say.. you’re so young, and this wand, this wand is not even yours!

You’ll be going great places one day.”

His face lighted up. “Thank you, mum.”

But the happiness in his face slowly turned to a slight frown. “Where is daddy? Isn’t he supposed to be home by now?

His mother took a brief look at the clock that stood on the balcony. Winky, their house elf, had cleaned it earlier because it was broken and dirty. Now it was working again, as it should.

“It’s 7 o’clock in the evening, I think it’s your bedtime now, dear.”

He looked startled. But eventually agreed on letting his mother take him to bed where he continued arguing.

“But mum.. dad..”

She wasn’t bothered by his worrying, but tried to calm him down nonetheless.

“He is safe, darling. He’ll come back soon. He is smart, and independent. Just like you, my big boy. That’s why you are named after him. We knew you were gifted from the first moment we saw you. Talented, I mean.”

The answer wasn’t enough for him. He had so many more questions. But he heard that one song today, called “Let it Be” from the muggle band The Beatles. 

A new song. He liked it. It was so calm.

One of the few muggle items he owned was a radio that played exactly this song a few hours ago, and the young Barty couldn’t get it out of his head.

His mum placed a small kiss on his forehead before leaving the room.

“Good night, Bartemius Junior.” she spoke in a soft voice.

“Good night, mum..”

Just as the young boy drifted off to sleep, his adult version woke up.

There were 14 years between the events of his dream and the present. He felt pretty lonely, very much alone compared to the old times. And now his mother couldn’t care for him anymore.

The only thing that came close to his childhood were the house elves regularly checking on him.

Speaking of which, one of them was knocking on his safely secured cell entrance.

“Mr. Crouch?“ The elf’s muffled voice echoed around the small room.

“Yes. Come in.“

The elf entered, and he carried stacks of papers and letters in his small arms.

“The first letter is addressed to you, sir, you might take it and read it.”

Barty took and opened the letter, and read it word for word. It was written on his birthday.

“Dear Bartemius, I wish you the happiest of birthdays today.

20 years! My big son, I’m so proud of you. I understand how you must feel. I hope people have been thinking of you..”

‘They haven’t’, Barty thought bitterly.

“Me and your father have been talking very long yesterday. You know I’m very ill, everything happening right now is taking a huge toll on me.

It’s all too much for me. I might die soon, it’s inevitable, and I am so sorry.

You have always been my gifted son, without a doubt. I would trust you with my life.

Your father imprisoned you because he had to, not because he wanted to. He’s really sorry for what happened.”

A lump formed in Barty’s throat and he had to swallow his pain. Especially in front of the house elf.

He wanted to keep reading, which was hard due to his blurred vision. But he did.

“I know you can brew Polyjuice potion very well, there’s nothing you’re not able to do- but you don’t have all the ingredients in Azkaban.

I should have told you a few months ago, but I started brewing it the day you and your friends were imprisoned. Now it’s finally ready, it just needs a hair of you. You need to drink the one with my hair, so you can look like me and vice versa.

The dementors are blind. They won’t notice who leaves the prison and who stays.

I will be dying in your body, and you’ll be living as me. That is if you want to escape.

No one escaped Azkaban before, but for you I’d risk it. I would die soon anyway, my last wish is to grant my beloved son the freedom he deserves. Your father understands, but he’ll have to keep you at home the entire time.

Winky keeps talking about you. She will take care of you, and provide you with whatever you need.

I only want the best for you, and I will visit you soon.

Until then, stay strong for me. Let it be.

Much love,  
Mum”

The reference to his favourite childhood song made him sad and nostalgic.

He stayed silent as he laid the letter back in the house elf’s arms.

“Thank you.” he hesitated for a moment.

“I want to write an answer.” he stated. The emotions he felt at the moment were undefinable, but he had a bit of new hope inside of him now.

The elf gave him pen and paper. “Here you are, sir. And- Oh! Happy late birthday. 20, right?”

“Mhm. Thank you.”

He began to write faster than he thought because he was so excited to finally leave. Mixed with the sadness of never seeing his loving mother in good health again.

One of them had to end in Azkaban. He wished that it’d be none of them.

He wanted to hop on the grass like a child, like a bunny, carefree and happy. But the world was dark, full of cruel magic, vile people.

Barty was aware that he might be one of them. But he never hurted his mother. He wanted to make his parents proud, always since he was at Hogwarts - or even his entire life. He knew that not everyone would like him, and he didn’t always do the right thing.

After all, he just wanted his family to love him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my little fic. :)


End file.
